


The Cardinal's cats

by lunaemoth



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cats, Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 21:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaemoth/pseuds/lunaemoth
Summary: Five times the Musketeers dealt or talked about cats, specifically Cardinal Richelieu's cats.Historically, Richelieu was known as a lover of cats. He had many (fourteen at the time of his death). All his cats' names in this fanfic are accurate.





	The Cardinal's cats

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my drafts, 95% done. I believe I wanted to make it a 5+1 kind of fic at the time, and the '+1' was missing, which is why it wasn't published, but it's good as it is so I edited it and here you go...
> 
> I'm French so let me know if there are any lingering mistakes.

For a Musketeer, to be sent to the Palais Cardinal was akin to punishment, albeit one only the most trusted soldiers had to deal with.

Athos was perfectly aware that his hangover this morning was the reason that Captain Treville had chosen him for the task. His judgmental stare had been telling enough.

With eyes half-closed behind the cover of his hat as a protection against the harsh light of this sunny day,  Athos waited for the Cardinal to receive him. He reminded himself to lay off the wine for a while. The temporary oblivion wasn’t worth it when he felt much worse the following day and provoked the disappointment and retaliation of his superior officer.

He followed the servant leading him to Richelieu’s office and removed his hat to greet him, carefully tilting his head away from the light but not too far down that his blood pounded against his skull.livi

“Your Eminence,” he said, articulating carefully lest he showed his weakness, “Captain Treville sent me to—”

“Yes, yes,” Richelieu interrupted without looking away from the letter he was writing. “On the couch. Everything is here, as agreed, but I suspect Treville told you to check. Go ahead.”

Athos did. Putting down his hat on a corner of the couch, he counted the livres and checked the documents. Once satisfied, he hid them in the leather bag supplied and went back to Richelieu’s desk, pulling a scroll from his doublet.

“Everything is in order. If you could sign the injunction…”

Richelieu put aside his work and waved long fingers toward him. Without a word, he took the scroll, read it, signed it and sealed it.

For all the Cardinal’s flaws, Athos appreciated his efficiency and disinterest in meaningless courtesies. Time was a precious currency for the First Minister of France. Any errand was shortly dealt with.

“Your Captain promised the King you were the right men for this mission. I trust that his faith isn’t misplaced, despite your… indisposition.”

Athos barely froze before taking back the scroll. He tilted his head respectfully. “We always serve the King with our best efforts.”

Richelieu hummed and waved him away. “See to it that you do.”

Letting the slight go, Athos went back to the couch to retrieve hat and bag. He was taken aback to find his headwear currently commandeered by a small white feline.

A small chuckle made him turn around to see the Cardinal looking at the cat with fondness, an expression that Athos had never seen him wear.

“Don’t mind Perruque,” Richelieu said, “he has a fondness for anything and everything related to hair.”

Perruque, since it was his name, no matter how strange, was staring at Athos with the same satisfaction and nerve as his master, clearly intent on keeping his prize.

“As saddened as I am to remove you, kind sir, I need that,” Athos murmured, gently tilting the hat until Perruque had no choice but to move. The angora reluctantly jumped on the floor, running to his master and pawing at his robes.

Richelieu bent down to help the cat climb on his lap and petted him until he was comfortably arranged.

A little distracted, Athos watched the scene as he put on hat and bag, before shaking his head and going for the door. He was called back before he could leave.

“Athos.” Richelieu was staring at him more intently than he had during the whole meeting. To bear his whole attention was never pleasant. “ _Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler, and whoever is led astray by it is not wise._ Do be more careful. Your loss would be strongly felt, by both your Captain and your King, and France would be poorer for it.”

Stunned (not at the quote of the Bible, more than a man of Church had reminded him of it before the Cardinal, but at the underhanded compliment), Athos bowed without a word and took his leave.

Later, when he handed over the bag to Treville, the Captain took a look at him and asked: “Did something went wrong at the Palais?”

Athos hesitated before admitting: “The Cardinal might have complimented me… in a roundabout fashion.”

Treville’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “What did you do?”

He had been asking himself the same thing and only saw one explanation: “I was kind to his cat.”

“Ah.” Treville nodded. “That would do it. Those beasts are the only way to his heart.”

“There are several?”

Treville simply chuckled and dismissed him.

 

oOo

 

The Inseparables were on their way to their posts around the King when a young servant came hurtling and nearly knocked over D’Artagnan. White-faced, the teenager stuttered an apology.

“Woah, it’s fine,” D’Artagnan said gently. “What’s the emergency?”

“It’s… There is… I’m looking for… Do you have seen a cat?”

“A cat?” Porthos repeated, nonplussed.

“It got out of the Cardinal’s carriage! If I don’t find it, his Eminence will be most displeased.”

“Ah,” Athos muttered in understanding, to his friends’ bewilderment. “Which colour is it?”

“Long grey and white hair, Monsieur, with a flat nose.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for it,” Athos promised.

“Cats?” Porthos repeated once they were alone.

“The Cardinal is famous for his fondness for the animals,” Aramis said. “From what I understand, some of them like to hide in his carriage and ride with him from the Palais Cardinal to the Louvre as stowaways. It always liven up the servants’ day.”

“As if they needed it,” D’Artagnan grumbled before shrugging and turning toward the gardens where they were awaited.

They put aside the matter as they reached the courtyard, where the King and Queen were strolling with a foreign dignitary. Relieving the Musketeers on duty, the Inseparables took their positions and observed from afar the nobility’s gathering. They could see well enough but not hear.

The King, flanked by the Queen and Captain Treville, was conversing with his guest. Treville was turned toward the Musketeers and looked far from happy with the discussion, although he was wearing his most diplomatic expression.

When a sudden commotion disturbed the assembly, it took a few seconds for the Musketeers to understand what was going on and consequently removed their hands from their weapons or stepped back to their positions. There was no danger to royalty.

A cat had jumped from a nearby statue onto the dignitary’s head, knocking off his hat, messing up his wig and probably scratching his face in passing if his screams were to be believed.

The Musketeers hid their amusement behind their hands and a few throat clearing.

The guilty party was rushing their way, fleeing the scene of its crime. Aramis, keeping an eye on the nobles, bent down and gently caught the cat. He tucked it in the curve of his elbow and adjusted his cape around it to hide the small beast who, after an initial struggle, found itself quite content in its warm hiding place.

The Duke, screaming bloody murder, headed their way, toward the doors leading back into the Palais.

The Musketeers stood ramrod straight at attention, carefully staring ahead to avoid any hilarity — the wig was still askew.

The King was following more sedately with his entourage. He didn’t bother to hide his glee. “Where is the Cardinal? It was one of his pets, no doubt! Someone, find him! We have to congratulate him for the good taste of his creatures! They are just as smart as he is, aren’t they?”

“That was certainly impeccable timing and execution, your Majesty,” Treville agreed without bothering to hide his satisfied smirk.

“It was lucky that the Duke was here to break its fall,” Anne noted, not without a touch of humour. “I wonder where it went.”

Aramis cleared his throat, bowed and opened his cloak to reveal the cat.

“Oh, you caught it,” Anne said with delight. She lowered the fan she was using to better see the animal.

“It has such a strangely flat face,” Louis commented with amusement.

“Indeed, but its fur is lovely,” Anne replied.

Curious, Louis glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You like it, Madame?”

“I prefer the other kind that the Cardinal favours. Their features are more dignified. But overall they show great intelligence that I appreciate.”

“I would have one selected for you if you desire it, Madame.”

Anne smiled softly, but any answer she could have given was interrupted by Richelieu’s arrival.

“Ah! Cardinal! You missed quite a scene!” Louis immediately launched himself in a retelling of the event: “The Duke was quite rudely commenting on our work ensuring the security of France, insulting both yourself and Captain Treville, when suddenly your great protector threw itself at him and slashed at hat, wig and face! It was the most hilarious scene! Tell me, what is the name of your devoted pet?”

Richelieu looked at the cat cradled in Aramis’ arms, with a brief glance for the Musketeer. “That would be Mounard, your Majesty. He is quite spirited.”

“Indeed! We shall have him honoured!” Louis laughed. “Come! It will soon be lunch. You’ll eat with me, of course.”

“I'll be with you shortly, your Majesty,” Richelieu promised, bowing before the Queen and King as they passed by. He intercepted Treville with a hand on his elbow and asked in hushed tones: “I trust that no real harm was done?”

“To your cat or to the Duke?” Treville replied with an amused smirk. “If it’s the first one, don’t fear, Aramis hid him in time. As for the second… his pride might not recover.”

He followed the courtiers, leaving Richelieu to look at Aramis more intently.

“I hope Mounard didn’t ruin your uniform. That would be a poor acknowledgement of your service.”

“A few small tears won’t be a problem, Your Eminence. The entertainment was worth it.” Aramis carefully handed over the cat.

“So I hear,” Richelieu said thoughtfully as he accepted his pet with a firm and experienced grip. He nodded at them before leaving. “Messieurs.”

 

oOo

 

A few days later, the Inseparables met at the stables of the Louvre after finishing their guard duty. D’Artagnan arrived with a displeased frown.

“What’s wrong?” Porthos asked.

“The Queen requested that I go to the Palais Cardinal.”

“Ah,” Porthos grunted in understanding.

In the same breath, Aramis asked: “What for?”

“To fetch her new cat,” d’Artagnan sighed.

“So she did desire one,” Athos said as they waited patiently, already mounted, for their friend to get on his horse.

“So it seems.”

“The King just had to say the word for the Cardinal to make it happen, no doubt,” Athos concluded. “Very well, let’s go. The trip back and forth is short enough.”

At the Palais Cardinal, the Red Guards took exception to their number. D’Artagnan had to step in alone. A servant led him to the cattery, where the Gascan had to take a few seconds to accept that cats here were better treated than humans in some parts of France. He felt lost for a moment, until the Cardinal himself appeared, immediately putting him on the defensive, something he was more familiar with.

“Your Eminence,” he greeted him with a bow. “The Queen sent me to—”

“Yes, yes,” Richelieu interrupted. “I told her I could bring her tomorrow but since she's so eager…” The Cardinal waved at the servant, who brought forward a small ball of perfectly white fur.

D’Artagnan suddenly felt gauche when he had to accept the kitten. It was staring at him with sky blue eyes.

“A white angora, as Her Majesty requested, from Pyrame and Tysbe’s latest litter,” Richelieu explained. “She is barely weaned, but the Queen already asked me in details what was needed to take care of her.”

“Mh… what’s her name?” D’Artagnan asked. It was the only thing that he could think of.

“I hadn’t decided yet, and Her Majesty will no doubt choose a new one as she wishes.”

“Yes, of course. Uh...” He was wondering how he was supposed to carry the baby when the servant reappeared with a small basket lined with soft blankets. The kitten was only too happy to borrow in it and hide from everyone and everything.

“Do take care of her; it’s the first time she leaves the cattery,” Richelieu commanded before letting him go.

His friends were waiting for him in the courtyard, lounging near their horses. As one, they bowed their head over the basket and waited for d’Artagnan to move the blanket just enough to see the bright eyes peeking at them.

“It’s a she,” d’Artagnan explained, feeling inexplicably proud and protective.

“And she is a beautiful lady, just like her new mistress,” Aramis approved, smiling blissfully.

Athos knocked him over the back of his head without looking and ordered them to get back in the saddle. “Let’s go. No need to make the Red Guards twitchy over a cat.”

“I’ve got a feeling it wouldn’t be the first time,” Porthos commented with a smirk.

 

oOo

 

Porthos was proved right.

A few weeks later, he was enjoying some time off and walking around the city, to find and speak to a few fellows from the Cour des Miracles.

He passed by the back of the Palais Cardinal and heard a few shouts coming from inside in between a lot of cursing: “Catch it! … No! Don’t let it climb! Be careful you moron, if you hurt it, you’re dead!”

Amused, the Musketeer looked up at the wall, wondering what could give so much trouble to the Cardinal’s minions. A small white muzzle appeared on the parapet, followed by the fluffy body of one of the precious cats favoured by Richelieu.

Porthos snorted as he imagined the Red Guards running around to catch the beast. What he wouldn’t give to see that instead of just hearing it! As it is, he would have a good laugh with his comrades when he’ll tell them about this, but he wouldn’t mind a bit more to develop his tale.

He was taken aback when the white cat slowly wriggled in anticipation of a jump and launched himself at Porthos. His reflexes allowed him to catch the animal before it fell on his face and clawed his skin. Remembering how Aramis had dealt with a similar situation, he pressed the cat against his doublet to neutralize him, ignoring his mewls of protest.

Porthos tilted his head. “Great. Now what?”

He glanced at the wall. He could hear them talk about going around it to catch the cat before it could flee. If they found him with the Cardinal’s precious pet, it wouldn’t end well, no doubt. However, he couldn’t abduct Richelieu’s pet either. It was probably so pampered that it couldn’t survive on its own in the streets of Paris and taking it in was out of the question. Porthos wasn’t really a cat lover. Dogs were fine when they were well trained, but if he had any choice, he'd rather deal with horses only.  

Sighing, Porthos resigned himself to his only option and walked away from the backdoor to get to the main street. He was going to knock at the door, where he knew a footman would answer and take care of the cat without question once he knew it had escaped from the backyard.

Unfortunately, as Porthos came to the gates, it was to see them wide open, having just let through the Cardinal’s carriage. As it happened, Richelieu was getting out, and their gazes met.

Musketeers wouldn’t be caught dead here if there wasn’t a good reason. Knowing this, the Cardinal gestured for him to step forward.  

Porthos complied, if only for the pleasure of seeing the Red Guards stare at him without being able to stop him or insult him.

“What is it?” Richelieu asked without preamble.

“I believe I found something that belongs to you, Your Eminence,” Porthos explained with an amused smirk. He glanced down at the furry creature that had resigned itself to the indignity of being pressed against smelly leather. “This little guy was doing a runner over your backyard’s wall. It threw itself in my arms to escape your guards.”

“Ah,” Richelieu sighed, “I see. Gazette likes to wander, indeed.” His long and thin fingers gently caught Gazette, pulling him from Porthos’ clumsy grasp. The cat was tenderly petted to appease him when he mewled in aggravation. “My thanks, Musketeer.”

Porthos bowed briefly. “My pleasure, your Eminence.” He tipped back his hat to take his leave.

He had barely left the courtyard when he heard the Cardinal call: “Boisrenard! Go inform the others that they’ve been bested by a cat and a Musketeer… again.”

Porthos snorted, stifling his laughter just long enough to be out of earshot. Wait till he shared that with the others!

 

oOo

 

Treville could feel the Cardinal’s gaze upon him, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

They were sitting together at a table set in the gardens of the Louvre. Louis, Anne and most of their entourage had gone to participate in a game of hide-and-seek. Treville and Richelieu had both chosen to stay, although for different reasons: the Cardinal because that kind of pastimes bored and tired him, the Captain because he was famished and currently enjoying the cakes offered for a collation. Which was why Richelieu was staring.

“It seems you haven’t eaten in ages, Captain,” the elder man commented. “Did your men forget to feed you?”

Treville sent him a glare, offended by the idea that anyone needed to feed him like a pet or a child. “I didn’t eat this morning. There was an incident in the pantry.”

“An incident? Of which sort? I do hope this doesn’t mean that a regiment of starving Musketeers has been released in the streets of Paris.”

“Do not exaggerate,” Treville sighed, shaking his head. “It was just some trouble with rats.”

“Ah,” Richelieu said in understanding. “One of the greatest nuisances in Paris. I found that some cats in residence are a great deterrent to such a threat.”

“You mustn’t have much of a problem with them then.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t. The cooks are quite pleased by that. They tend to praise and spoil Ludovic and Ludoviska a tad too much. As effective as they are, I wouldn’t want them to get complacent.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Treville said, not mockingly. He just never knew how to behave when Richelieu talked about his cats. He was genuinely fond of them and wasn’t ashamed of it. Despite that, he didn’t talk about them to just anyone. Recently, they came up more often in their conversations. Perhaps because the Inseparables had met them and shown they could be trusted with them?

“Did you think of getting one?”

“One?”

“A cat, Captain,” Richelieu sighed with a hint of impatience telling him to keep up. “To deal with vermins.”

“I… did not,” Treville admitted. “I’m more accustomed to dogs, to be honest. Every cat I have ever seen as a child were strays.”

“They can be trained effectively if domesticated since birth, and they’re rather easy to take care of.”

“They seem to slip from your men’s grasp quite often.”

“It keeps them on their toes,” Richelieu admitted, unbothered. “Would it be too much for yours?”

Treville frowned, not at the blatant bait, but in serious thought at the suggestion. “It could be worth a try,” he admitted.

The Cardinal raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “I have a young male who looks promising as a mouser. For a worthy cause like the well-being of his Majesty’s Musketeers, I could hand it over to a respectable owner.”

“How gracious of you.” Resigned, Treville sighed and gestured. “All right, tell me how to deal with it.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at lunaemoth.tumblr.com


End file.
